Friday, April 20, 2012

I was drinking water just now and I missed my mouth

I have a lot of ideas. Sort of. The problem with my brain is that it’s not really capable of having a full idea, it just comes up with tiny little idea fragments.
Many times I have had what I considered to be a brilliant idea for a blog. I started writing and realised that no, I was wrong. So ladies and gentlemen, I present to you what I like to call ‘The blog where blog ideas go to die’ featuring scrawlings from many random scraps of paper:

HALF BAKED IDEAS

There’s still so much I don’t understand. Why does every letter of the alphabet have its own Wikipedia page? What’s keeping Keith Richards alive and where can I get some?

Think of stupid things to put on a bucket list*

How your iPod will always embarrass you if you put it on shuffle in public: I don’t like B*witched ironically. I genuinely like them and people who come into my place of business don’t need to be aware of that. It hurts my image.

How hairdressers are like prostitutes – you pay them money for a service and they pretend to like you. They are hair-stitutes.

The meaning of life - something to do with donuts?

How I tried to get swine flu in 2009 because I hated my job: When I saw someone cough on the train, my first instinct wasn’t to move away. It was ‘quick, lick his face. LICK HIS FAAAAAACE!’

Money saving ideas – it works out a lot cheaper if you just kill the prostitute.

‘Baby it’s cold outside’ is a date rape anthem and really needs to stop being so damn catchy.

How pop music has become dirtier since I was a kid: The dirtiest song we had was Genie in a Bottle, except we actually thought it was about a genie in a bottle. Our innocent little minds never clicked that maybe there was something a bit suss about having to rub her the right way, honey.

SHORT BITTIES THAT I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF AND NOW DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT I WAS GETTING AT

I have no respect for personal space. I’m going to sexually assault you now.

Check out my new pocket watch. I’d get more chicks if it was the 1940s.

For a small fee and the cost of transporting a drum kit, I’ll follow you around all day and make everything you say instantly become 42% funnier (mathematically proven). BA-DUM-TSH!